


Stiles' Novelty Sensations

by houseofaffliction



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, Dildos, M/M, No actual sex occurs, Sex Shop, Vibrators, not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofaffliction/pseuds/houseofaffliction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles owns a sex shop. <br/>Derek needs a dildo. <br/>It goes about as well as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles' Novelty Sensations

**Author's Note:**

> I recently visited a sex store for the first time. It was... an experience. One of the employees was very kind and made sure to show me all the best vibrators. I left knowing that I had to write this. It's short and a bit silly, but I might even write a few more chapters. 
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply: I do not own Teen Wolf. I do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere without my express permission.

This is a bad idea. 

Derek's hand clench rhythmically around the steering wheel. The neon sign in his rear view mirror flickers mockingly and he glowers at it out of pure habit. 

"This is a bad idea," he mumbles out loud. A final, long glower and he turns off the car and hauls himself out the door. "Fuck."

His shoes rasp against the asphalt of the parking lot as he treks his way from the furthest parking spot he could find all the way over to the store he drove twenty minutes to find. He hesitates briefly outside the door, flicking a nearly nervous glance up to the cheery sign announcing  _Stiles' Novelty Sensations_ as the name of the store. It's a ridiculous name if Derek's ever heard one, but he mans up after only a brief moment and pushes open the door. 

"Hi! Welcome to  _Stiles' Novelty Sensations_ ," a disembodied voice chirps. The store is deserted, but Derek can hear the tell-tale shuffling of boxes through a door at the back of the small building. "Have a look around, I'll be out in just a moment!"

Derek flushes and sincerely hopes he won't because he wants far more than a moment to himself to explore this paralyzingly intimidating  _sex shop_. 

There are plastic dicks scattered artfully all over the place, a tasteful display offers a wide selection of dirty birthday cards, and an entire  _wall_ is filled with every type of dildo imaginable that catches and keeps his attention more than he'd like to say.

Derek is well out of his league. 

For a moment he considers spinning around and booking it out of the store. No one knows he's here, there's a hobby shop just down the road that he could stop in and use as a perfect excuse for driving through  _three different cities_ to get over to this particular area. He could just leave and never look back. 

But he doesn't. He's been using just his fingers for  _ages_ now and he's sick and tired of it. He wants to be filled, damn it, and the store, despite its intimidating displays, is well lit and clean. There's low music playing, much less of the sultry type he was imagining and much more of a Top 40 channel - just like the channel his office plays in the lobby every day. Despite being a sex store, everything is above board and, dare he say,  _professional_. 

The presentation of the store, despite its content, relaxes him just enough that he decides he can stay just for a bit to have a look around. 

Of course, that's exactly when one of the hottest men he's ever seen in his  _life_ walks out of the back room. 

The man is tall and lean but broad-shouldered. He's dressed in a button down tucked neatly into a pair of well-fitting slacks, and his hair is wild but in a way that says he spent at least ten minutes in front of mirror that morning trying to get it to look that way. His mouth is like sin and when he  _smiles_ - 

Well, Derek could live and die by that smile alone. 

"Hi there, looking for anything specific?" 

For a minute, Derek forgets the nature of the store. The man is so professional, so completely  _normal_ about everything despite the fact that this is  _not normal at all_ \- except maybe it is, but Derek's never been to a shop like this before so how would he know? 

Too late, he realizes that an awkward amount of time has passed and hurriedly spits out the first thing that comes to mind, "No." 

Smooth. 

The man's smile doesn't falter. 

"I could show you a few things if you were interested?" 

Derek nearly swallows his own tongue.  _Yeah, I bet you could_ , his traitorous mind leers. 

"No! Well, yes, maybe. Just - " God, this is not going well. "Dildos," he finally blurts out. 

"Dildos," the man repeats. He points at the far wall that Derek noticed earlier - the wall that is  _literally covered in every dildo ever made_. "Over there, let me show you." 

Despite Derek's internal pleadings not to, the man rounds the corner and herds him over to the display. "Alright, well, we've got a lot of different options depending on what you were going for. Different materials, all extensively tested and personally approved by the owner himself," Stiles announces. 

"The owner?" Derek asks. 

"At your service!" The man makes a tiny bow and holds out a hand, "Stiles Stilinski, I own the place." 

Derek takes the offered hand and shakes weakly.  _Personally_ approved, Stiles had said. Did that mean - ? No. Derek wasn't going to think about it.

"Derek." 

"Nice to meet you, Derek," Stiles beams. God, but he's got a gorgeous smile. "Like I was saying, we stock dildos made of a bunch of different materials, but they're all nice and easy to clean. Now were you going for a traditional dildo or maybe a vibrating dildo? Or a prostate massager, perhaps?" 

Derek flaps his hands in an effort to get Stiles to  _stop saying words like 'prostate massager' for fucks sake._

"Just - just a traditional one, I think," he manages to say.

Stiles blathers on about material and texture, painting verbal venn diagrams of cost versus efficiency. Every now and then he scoops up a display item and presses it into Derek's hands, encouraging him to 'get a feel for what he might like' and occasionally, despite Derek's expressed desires, showing him sleek little vibrators and prattling on about how quiet and powerful they are. 

Derek quickly becomes overwhelmed.

Stiles has long, nimble fingers that he uses freely to demonstrate the curve of this dildo or the ridges of that one. Derek is seventeen months, three weeks, and four days into the longest dry spell he's had since he was sixteen and  _cannot_ be blamed for the way he goes a little cross-eyed when Stiles starts showing him the best combinations of material and personal lubricants. 

Stiles talks and talks and talks and shoves toy after toy into his hands and, finally, Derek snaps. 

"This one!" He exclaims hastily. He plucks a short, pink silicon dildo off the wall and waves it almost desperately at Stiles. Stiles, who was in the middle of a debate with himself about the merits of water-based lubricant versus others, stops mid sentence and stares at him a little perplexedly. 

Then, as if the last fifteen minutes of utter  _torture_ hadn't even happened, Stiles smiles widely and herds him to the door, picking up a small bottle of "owner-approved" lube and a little bag that, upon closer inspection, will help keep his new dildo lint-free. 

Stiles rambles all through the checkout process, takes Derek's cash without a second thought and deposits everything into a discreet white bag. "Lube and bag are on the house," he says cheerfully, "since you let me talk you to death and all." 

Derek takes the bag and his change, makes one last-ditch effort to memorize the sparkling brown of Stiles' eyes and the sweet curve of his lips, and leaves.

"Fuck," he whispers in the car and promptly slams his forehead against the horn. 

He's never going out in public again.


End file.
